


Bell, Book, and Candle

by honooko



Category: VIXX
Genre: Hakyeon is magic, M/M, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 22:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12757284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honooko/pseuds/honooko
Summary: Hakyeon had always been able to tell what Taekwoon was thinking. It turns out there was a reason.





	Bell, Book, and Candle

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this with Celina in mind, so here you go! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! <3

Really, Taekwoon thought, they probably should have noticed it earlier.

From the very beginning, Hakyeon seemed to have a strange power to him; his ability to befriend essentially everyone he met was a skill Taekwoon regularly envied. Even when he thought back to their first meeting, Hakyeon seemed to know exactly what was in his head without him ever having to verbalize it out loud. He just knew, and responded with such precision Taekwoon was instantly both intrigued, and slightly frightened—but then Hakyeon would smile at him, and the fear would be erased. How could a person as perceptive and _kind_ possibly be _bad_?

Well, he supposed the new revelations didn’t really indicate a contradiction there. Hakyeon was still kind. He was just perceptive for slightly different reasons.

 

Taekwoon hadn’t really thought about the way that physical contact slowly faded as he got older. In elementary school, his sisters and parents hugged him constantly, kissed his cheek, held his hand—they were all affectionate. As elementary school ended and junior high school started, the touches started to lessen; by high school, his sisters were complaining he wasn’t cute anymore. The handful of brief relationships he had were equally confusing in terms of contact; he was too shy for PDA, too nervous in private, and just generally uncomfortable with touching. It helped reinforce the unfortunate reputation he was developing of being cold and aloof; Jung Taekwoon was not friendly, warm, or fun. It didn’t take long for Taekwoon to internalize it all. Yes, he was cold and aloof. Everyone said he was, so it must have been true.

Hakyeon, however, seemed to either miss that memo or disregard it entirely. They’d known each other mere hours before Hakyeon was leaning on him and hugging his shoulders. It was uncomfortable and unfamiliar after so many years of being at a distance from people, but Hakyeon just kept doing it. Sometimes he did it by force, using his inexplicable physical strength to hold Taekwoon in place for some heavy-duty cuddling on the couch. Taekwoon scowled at him, pushed him away, and sometimes even loudly complained—but Hakyeon was unmoved. He would bring Taekwoon lattes with artful designs drawn in the foam and smile at him like he was the sweetest thing Hakyeon had ever seen. 

Slowly, like a glacier in the spring, Taekwoon felt himself melting. It certainly wasn’t a complete change; he didn’t joyfully fling himself at everyone like Hakyeon did, or even really seek touch out, but he also didn’t push Hakyeon away every time. He was getting somewhat used to it—and then he was on some level enjoying it, kind of. Hakyeon held out a coffee and Taekwoon touched his shoulder briefly. The smile he got in return was like the brightest, hottest sunny day of the summer on his glacier, melting him even faster.

The next time he received a coffee, he cautiously put a hand on Hakyeon’s lower back. It wasn’t a hug, but it was more than he’d ever done before; Hakyeon beamed at him, another blast of sunshine on his heart. Maybe it was some sort of weird, positive feedback loop, but somehow when Hakyeon looked at him like that, he felt even warmer than the coffee.

One day the lid of the coffee fell off in his hand; he glanced at the foam and found himself frowning in confusion. The design in the foam was weirdly angular; had they always been so... pointy? They didn’t even make a shape so much as a mark. A few marks, actually.

“What’s this supposed to be?” Taekwoon asked, holding the cup out. Hakyeon smiled at him and put the lid back on without looking.

“The barista was probably in a hurry,” he said warmly. Taekwoon took the cup back and drank; he felt the tension in his upper back relax, and when Hakyeon’s hand landed on his shoulder, he put his own on top, holding him there for just a little bit more.

“There,” Hakyeon said quietly. “Isn’t that better?”

Taekwoon nodded into his coffee, unaware that Hakyeon wasn’t actually talking to him at all.

 

Jaehwan was beginning to worry them. It wasn’t unusual to wake up and discover Jaehwan in your bed when he definitely hadn’t been there when you went to sleep, but it wasn’t a daily occurrence. He’d wander when he was a little lonely or a little sad, and that was perfectly fine. Wonshik even felt guilty about being a shitty bedmate thanks to the flailing and thunderous snoring.

The problem was that now he was doing it every single night, and rather than sad, he was _afraid_. He’d whine about a movie, or a scary comic, or an internet creepypasta—but then Hongbin commented that he’d heard Jaehwan waking up shouting a few times before scurrying into someone else’s room. The fact that he was repeatedly coming into Taekwoon’s made them suspicious.

“Jaehwanie,” Hakyeon said quietly at breakfast with Taekwoon as Jaehwan inhaled his cereal. “Are you sleeping okay?”

“Fine,” Jaehwan said in between bites. When he didn’t continue, Hakyeon reached out and pulled his bowl away.

“Be honest,” he said gently. “We’ll understand.” Taekwoon nodded once, sharp, confirmation. Jaehwan dropped his head.

“I’ve had a lot of nightmares recently,” he admitted quietly.

“About what?” Hakyeon asked.

“Lots of things,” Jaehwan said. “My teeth falling out. I try to talk or sing but my voice doesn’t work. I can’t run, but something’s chasing me. A fire.”

The more things he listed, the darker Hakyeon’s expression got; he reached out a hand to hold Jaehwan’s, squeezing.

“You must be exhausted,” Hakyeon told him sympathetically. Jaehwan just nodded; Taekwoon was nodding too. Jaehwan hadn’t told him why he was climbing in each night, but he’d already admitted that sleeping next to Taekwoon made him feel safer if only because Taekwoon was scarier than whatever he was afraid of. Taekwoon couldn’t even bring himself to be mad about it, because Jaehwan was just scared.

“I think I have some things that can help you,” Hakyeon told him. “Remind me tonight, okay?”

That night, Taekwoon stuck his head into Jaehwan’s open door to see him literally tucked into bed like a little kid, surrounded by stuffed animals that no one was entirely sure how he obtained, with Hakyeon arranging things on his nightstand.

“You’re just very stressed recently,” Hakyeon explained. “Nightmares are your mind trying to process your fears during the day, but magnified. You need to fall asleep with a calm heart, okay? A lavender candle will help you relax; put it out before you pass out though. We’ll put this lemon right under your pillow, so if you toss around you’ll smell something refreshing.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” Jaehwan said, sounding very small. Hakyeon tucked him in a bit tighter.

“You won’t have any nightmares tonight,” Hakyeon told him. “Trust me.” He bent down to kiss Jaehwan on the forehead like a doting mother, patted the blankets one last time, and left. 

“What should I say if he comes in again?” Taekwoon asked Hakyeon, hoping for some advice on how to comfort Jaehwan—he was pretty bad at words for things, but he’d try.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Hakyeon asked, surprised. “He won’t have any tonight.”

“But—”

“Not one,” Hakyeon said firmly. “Only good dreams are allowed this room.” He shut Jaehwan’s door with a soft click. He pulled a small bottle out of his pocket and handed it directly to Taekwoon; he recognized it as one of many ‘essential oils’ Hakyeon had in his room. He usually put them in a diffuser of some kind, letting the pleasant scents permeate his space. 

“Hold this for me please,” he said. Crouching down in the doorway, he ran his fingers along the baseboard before holding out his hand; Taekwoon passed him the tiny bottle.

“What’s that?” Taekwoon asked.

“More lavender,” Hakyeon murmured, “Plus a little patchouli, mugwort, and hyssop.” He poured a few drops onto his fingertips and swiped them across the floor directly in front of the door. Then he stood up again, smiling at Taekwoon. “You can smell them inside the room like this.” Taekwoon wasn’t sure why he just accepted this, despite understanding barely any of it, but Hakyeon seemed confident.

Jaehwan slept clear though the night. He was so refreshed that his usual shower singing was rattling around the entire dorm, in every corner. When he came out and saw Hakyeon, he threw his arms around him.

“I dreamed about _puppies_ ,” he gushed. “At least twenty puppies, running around and playing with me. It was _great._ ”

“See?” Hakyeon said, patting Jaehwan on the head. “I told you, didn’t I? Now keep up with the candle and the lemon for a week.”

“Why a week?” Jaehwan asked, confused. “I slept great last night.”

“A week, Jaehwan,” Hakyeon said firmly. “If they come back, we have to take additional measures.” 

Taekwoon and Jaehwan stared at him; he turned a dusty pink and slipped out of Jaehwan’s arms, backing towards his room in short, quick steps. Before either of them had the chance to really pursue him, or even inquire further, he knocked on the door three times and darted in, closing it with a snap.

“...That was weird,” Taekwoon commented.

“Yeah, he doesn’t usually... flee.”

“Not that,” Taekwoon said. “He knocked.”

“So?” Jaehwan replied.

“It’s _his door,_ ” Taekwoon pointed out. “Why does he need to knock to get into his own room?”

“Oh,” Jaehwan said as they both stared at the unassuming piece of wood. “Huh.”

 

Hakyeon had left in the morning immediately after waking everyone up; it was almost a regular thing at this point. Hakyeon had a lot of schedules in a lot of places, and he liked to be early to everything. What was unusual was the fact that he was also the last person to come home; Taekwoon didn’t even think the kids knew how obviously they were missing Hakyeon. When he finally came in the door, they would grab him to just unload their days onto him. This was something Hakyeon encouraged—but recently, after a packed day of his own, four additional people’s days seemed to be taking a toll on him.

“You’re not their therapist,” Taekwoon told him, pulling him down on the sofa after spending nearly twenty minutes in Jaehwan’s doorway, getting an update. “You don’t have to listen to everything.”

Hakyeon smiled at him, but it was weary.

“I’m their mother,” he replied. “And their leader. It’s important.” Taekwoon arranged himself in a slouch that allowed for Hakyeon to curl up not _quite_ under his arm, but close. He also yanked a throw blanket off the back and tossed it over Hakyeon’s legs.

“You’re no good to them as either if you’re exhausted,” Taekwoon pointed out. Hakyeon looked better, but still not great. He was used to thinking of Hakyeon as something of a battery that everyone used to recharge. It had only recently occurred to him that Hakyeon didn’t have a battery of his own. He could _see_ the tension up the back of Hakyeon’s neck and across his shoulders. Cautiously, unsure if Hakyeon would like it (let alone appreciate it) he ran his fingers through Hakyeon’s hair near the base of his skull, then slightly up, scratching lightly. 

Hakyeon made a noise and leaned his head back further into Taekwoon’s hand; he continued scratching, mixing in some gentle carding of his hair. The more he did it, the looser Hakyeon’s shoulders got, so he kept going until it seemed like Hakyeon was about to fall asleep on him. With one last stroke, he pulled his hand back; Hakyeon blinked like he’d been in a daze, turning to look at him.

“Magic,” he breathed. “You’re magic.”

“Go to bed,” Taekwoon told him, blushing. “You’re tired.” Hakyeon leaned into his shoulder.

“But it’s so nice right here,” he said. “I’ve got a blanket and everything.” Taekwoon yanked the blanket off his legs.

“ _Go to bed_ ,” he insisted again. “Stop saying weird things.”

“Fine,” Hakyeon sighed, standing up. He wobbled; Taekwoon instantly braced his elbow and frowned. How exhausted did he had to be for _standing_ to tire him out? He seemed steady, so Taekwoon let him go. Hakyeon smiled at him, soft.

“What?” Taekwoon asked, aware he was melting again.

“I think I can charge back up now,” Hakyeon said. “Thank you.” As he shuffled down the hall to his room, Taekwoon wondered, not for the first time (or even the hundredth) how Hakyeon managed to _read his mind._

 

Wonshik was drooping. He’d started with a general slouch, which turned into a sad slump, and then progressed into a despondent droop on an unsympathetic-but-tolerant Jaehwan’s shoulder. He also kept sighing very loudly.

“You might as well tell us,” Hakyeon said without looking up from his book. “Since we can literally hear your suffering.”

“Ask me how things in the studio are going,” Wonshik said. 

“How are things in the studio going, Wonshik,” Taekwoon said in a monotone.

“ _Terrible_ ,” Wonshik answered. “I haven’t come up with anything interesting in _a week._ ”

“Writer’s block?” Jaehwan suggested.

“I don’t have a single original sound in my skull,” Wonshik said, wilting even more. “Not even a whisper.”

“Nothing new?” Hakyeon said, closing his book with his finger holding his page. “Nothing at all?”

“None,” Wonshik said. “I even basically ruined an okay song by trying to mix it; it came out worse, somehow. I have negative creativity at this point.”

“Frustrating,” Hakyeon commented. Wonshik just sighed again. Hakyeon got up and disappeared into his room for a while; Jaehwan patted Wonshik with slightly more sympathy now that he knew it was more serious than sulking, and Taekwoon tried to make a face that would be interpreted as sympathy by a normal human. He wasn’t sure it was working. Hakyeon returned with a small Ziploc bag holding a yellow candle, a few incense cones, and a cat collar, which he handed to Taekwoon with a quiet, “Hold this please.”

“You’re in a funk,” Hakyeon told Wonshik. “Next time you go, light the incense—rosemary—then the candle, in that order. Let them burn for a while.”

“Why is there a collar in there?” Wonshik asked.

“Because there’s a bell on it,” Hakyeon informed him. “When you get really stuck, ring the bell.”

“Why?” Wonshik said, looking baffled. Hakyeon gave him a frown and a neck-chop.

“Who taught you to talk back to your elders?” he said. “Just do it.” Wonshik still looked highly skeptical, but stuffed the bag in his jacket pocket when Taekwoon passed it over just the same. 

“Well, I’m off to be a waste of space,” Wonshik said, heading towards the door. “Wish me luck.”

“Luck,” Hakyeon said immediately. “Not that you’ll need it.” 

Three hours later, Taekwoon got a text message.

 _Hyung,_ he said. _How would you feel about an LR comeback this year?_

Hakyeon looked incredibly smug when Taekwoon told him. 

 

Taekwoon wasn’t sure when, exactly, he started coughing; he’d had a bit of a tickle when he went to sleep, but it definitely got worse as the night went on until he couldn’t sleep without waking himself up. It wasn’t serious enough to wake anybody up over, so he tried to just cover his mouth as much as possible so no one else was disturbed until he could go see a doctor in the morning.

By about three in the morning, he accepted that he wasn’t going to get anymore rest. A particularly strong coughing fit left him slightly dizzy; he heard a quiet rap on the door before it was opening, Hakyeon peeking in.

“Taekwoon-ah?” he murmured, “Are you okay?”

Taekwoon tried to answer, but just started coughing again. Hakyeon eased inside and closed the door behind him; he put one hand on Taekwoon’s forehead and rested the other on the back of his neck. He tsk’d and pulled back.

“You’ve got a fever,” he said. “How long have you been sick?”

“Tonight,” he said. “Since tonight.”

“Is your throat sore? Stupid question, never mind. Is it a wet or dry cough?”

“Dry, I think,” he said, before being immediately cut off by another fit. The dizziness was back, but so was Hakyeon’s hand. His palm was pleasantly cool, and for a moment Taekwoon forgot everything that was wrong. A sense of comfort and serenity seemed to radiate from his hand

“Lay down,” Hakyeon told him. “I’ll bring you something.”

As soon as Hakyeon left, the coughing started again. He felt like he couldn’t take a full breath in between and lying down seemed to make it worse, so he sat up again but leaned against the wall. Hopefully Wonshik’s snoring would drown out his coughing.

Hakyeon came back with a mug. The minute he handed it to Taekwoon, he knew from the smell that it would taste utterly foul. He looked at Hakyeon in betrayal.

“Don’t we have any cough syrup or anything?” he whined. Hakyeon sighed and put his hand on the back of Taekwoon’s neck once more; the coolness was so soothing.

“This is better,” he informed Taekwoon. “Garlic, ginger, some cayenne pepper, a bit of honey, willow bark, plus a few other things. It’s unpleasant, but it works. Trust me, it will work faster than something from a pharmacy anyway.”

“What if I can’t swallow it?” Taekwoon said, even more unwilling to drink it after such a bizarre string of ingredients. Hakyeon settled on the bed next to him, one leg tucked under himself, and put his other hand on Taekwoon’s chest. He felt the coolness there too, inexplicably; he had a t-shirt on. Why could he feel it?

“You can,” Hakyeon assured him. “Just knock it back, get it over with.” Shooting one last look of displeasure at Hakyeon, Taekwoon attempted to chug the ‘tea’. It was absolutely foul, and his mouth and throat fought him when he tried to swallow it. He could feel a choke coming as his body refused to swallow—but Hakyeon moved the hand on his chest to his throat, just his fingers, and suddenly swallowing was easier. It was still disgusting, and he immediately felt like vomiting the entire mess back up, but it went down.

“I’m going to puke,” he told Hakyeon.

“Give it a minute,” he replied. “You won’t once the ginger kicks in.”

“The ginger kicked in _in my mouth_ ,” Taekwoon informed him, whining again. Hakyeon laughed.

“If I could make it taste better, I would,” he said. “I’m pretty good, but not _that_ good.” He brushed the hair off of Taekwoon’s forehead; as foul as the tea had been, his stomach seemed to be settling, and the cough had mysteriously gone silent.

“How are your ribs?” Hakyeon asked him softly. “You can strain them from coughing.”

“Fine,” he said, bewildered, because they definitely hurt before. “It feels better.”

“Good,” Hakyeon said. “Lie down.”

“Hakyeon—”

“Lie down please,” Hakyeon told him in a voice of steel that meant either you did what he said, or he would force you to. He laid back and Hakyeon pulled back his blankets and settled them over him. Then Hakyeon moved so his back was against the wall next to Taekwoon’s head; the hand that had until now been working magic on the nape of his neck was gently combing through his hair. Despite still feeling sick, every time Hakyeon’s fingers touched him, the discomfort faded a little. He knew he was falling asleep, but before he could really warn Hakyeon, he’d drifted off.

When he woke up again, late in the morning, Hakyeon was gone, but there were a few peppermint tea bags on his night stand, with a note that said, _Drink these when you wake up. If you start to cough again, add some honey. I’ll check in on you this afternoon. Rest!_

He drank the more palatable tea; his cough didn’t come back, and he was on his feet the next day.

 

The day had clearly started roughly for Hongbin when he flew out of his room roughly half an hour after he was supposed to be awake in the first place. 

“Somebody overslept,” Sanghyuk commented over his toast. Taekwoon was inclined to agree, based on the way Hongbin was clattering around in the shower. He seemed to keep dropping things, based on the noise of the bottles and the increasingly loud cursing. He shrieked about ten minutes in.

“Hit the cold too far?” Jaehwan speculated from his chair. “Or the hot.” More clattering followed, then:

“WHERE ARE ALL THE TOWELS,” Hongbin shouted. 

“Uh,” Wonshik said, sinking into his seat with an incredibly guilty expression. “I, uh. Might have left them in the washer last night?”

“ARE YOU SAYING WE HAVE NO TOWELS?!”

“We have them, they’re just not dry,” Wonshik attempted.

“Maybe if you just spin around in place really fast, you can air dry yourself,” Sanghyuk suggested. Hongbin clearly decided to forgo such an attempt because instead he came out of the shower with the shorts he usually slept in back on while he dried his hair with a t-shirt. The motion was almost violent. Water was still running off him, enough to pool under his feet; he slipped, landing hard on his back.

For a moment, he just lay on the floor, utterly defeated.

“Hongbin?” Hakyeon asked, sticking his head out of his room. “Why are you on the floor? Half-naked? And wet?”

“Fuck today,” Hongbin said with bitter conviction.

“What’s wrong with today?” Hakyeon inquired primly.

“He woke up late,” Taekwoon supplied.

“And then he dropped everything he was holding,” Sanghyuk added.

“And hit the cold,” Jaehwan amended.

“I fucked up the laundry again,” Wonshik confessed seriously. Jaehwan gave him a comforting pat on the thigh.

“I’m just going to stay here,” Hongbin informed them, t-shirt still covering his face. “If I get up I’ll probably die, so might as well just live out my days like this.”

“That’s... a lot of bad luck,” Hakyeon commented with a small frown. He came out of his room completely and came over to help Hongbin get to his feet; once steady, Hongbin went back to his room—and stubbed his toe hard on the doorframe.

His scream was wordless, but filled with rage. He slammed his own door behind him; Taekwoon thought that would be the end of it, but not five minutes later there was a roar of fury.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” Hongbin bellowed.

“You doing okay in there Hyung?” Sanghyuk asked him through the door.

“I STEPPED ON MY FUCKING PHONE,” Hongbin answered. “I CRACKED THE FUCKING SCREEN.”

Sanghyuk winced.

Hakyeon was still standing in the hallway, looking at the floor, then the bathroom, then Hongbin’s room—all with his arms crossed, a finger on his lip. He was clearly thinking about something, but Taekwoon had no idea what it could be. He was even less sure when Hakyeon’s gaze went to the doorframe _above_ the door.

They heard glass shatter. Hakyeon put his entire palm on his face.

“Please tell me you did not just _break a mirror,_ ” he said.

“WHY IS THIS EVEN IN HERE?!” Hongbin shouted. “I DON’T EVEN USE A MIRROR!”

“Why would you?” Wonshik said seriously. “Your face is perfect.”

“Hongbin, please come out of your room,” Hakyeon asked him through the door. There was a rattle as the doorknob shook—and the door remained shut. Another rattle, but with the same result.

“THE MOTHERFUCKING DOOR,” Hongbin said, punctuating each word with a thud of his hand, “IS STUCK!”

Hakyeon sighed. He reached up to the top of the doorframe where he’d looked before, and wiped his fingers; they came away clean, and for some reason, he looked _annoyed._

“Did you dust your door last night?” Hakyeon asked him.

“YES,” Hongbin answered. “IT WAS DISGUSTING.”

“A moment please,” Hakyeon said, retreating to his room. Taekwoon, on a hunch, walked towards his own door and reached—his hand came away covered in white crumbs. He gave a cautious sniff.

Salt?

Sanghyuk must have been watching him, because he immediately when to the door of his and Wonshik’s room; his fingers came away salty too. 

“Alright,” Hakyeon said, returning. “Back away from the door please.”

“What are you going to do?” Jaehwan asked suspiciously. Hakyeon had more oil in a tiny bottle.

“Hold this please,” he asked Taekwoon. After only a few seconds, he snatched it back, leaving Taekwoon to wonder what the point of holding it had even _been_. This time Hakyeon dabbed some on each hinge, then the knob and latch. Once he’d finished that, he pushed on the knob at the same time as slamming his shoulder into the door. It popped open like a soda can tab.

Everyone was staring at him.

“It’s dry in here,” Hakyeon said innocently. “The hinges must have needed a little greasing.”

“You grease a door with WD40,” Taekwoon pointed out. “That’s not WD40.”

“It’s like WD40,” Hakyeon said evasively. “It’s kind of greasy.”

Taekwoon was about to argue the point when Hongbin tried to leave his room and, somehow, stubbed the exact same toe _again_. He yelped, grabbing at it and started moving towards the water on the floor, but Hakyeon slung an arm around his waist just in time.

“For goodness’ sake,” he muttered. “Stand straight.” Once Hongbin had both feet on the ground, Hakyeon put a hand on each shoulder and pushed him until he turned, counter-clockwise. And kept turning him.

“Hyung—”

“Hush,” Hakyeon said. “Seven times.” As soon as he finished the seventh rotation, Hakyeon stopped him.

“You are a lovely, tidy child,” he informed Hongbin, “but promise me you won’t wipe off the doorframes anymore.”

“Mine was filthy,” he informed Hakyeon. 

“It wasn’t,” Hakyeon replied neatly. “There was no dust whatsoever.”

“But—”

“ _Stop wiping the damn doorframes,_ ” Hakyeon repeated, firmly. Hongbin stared for a moment longer before nodding. Hakyeon shooed him towards Wonshik; as soon as his back was turned, he whipped out a salt shaker and vigorously dumped salt along the top of the door again, murmuring softly to himself the entire time. Finished, Hakyeon glanced around to see if anyone was looking, and caught Taekwoon’s full gaze.

He put a finger to his lips in a ‘hush’ gesture and winked.

Taekwoon had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

 

Hakyeon was making a face at them all in the mirror. Usually the face meant either “you all are screwing up and I’m pissed” or “this looks weird and I’m going to fix it.”

“Okay, we’re going to change the positions here,” he directed. “Jaehwan and Taekwoon will be here and here, Wonshik and Sanghyuk behind me there and there, and Hongbin right in front.”

“This is kind of a weird shape,” Hongbin commented.

“It’s a pentagram,” Hakyeon muttered.

“A what?” Wonshik said.

“A star,” Hakyeon said brightly. “A star for the starlights!”

Taekwoon thought that this did not entirely make sense, but the very first run through with the new positions, he felt a strange buzzing sensation that made him move more smoothly, more quickly; Hakyeon’s solo lines in particular felt different; his expression was seductive, drawing everyone in with his gaze and razor smile. It was weird that such a simple change had such an effect, but that was why Hakyeon was so talented: he just _knew._ A few more adjustments, to their arm and leg movements seemed to pull it together even further.

“That was way better,” Taekwoon commented quietly on their water break. Hakyeon beamed at him.

“Thank you,” Hakyeon replied. He took a long drink from his water bottle; Taekwoon watched his Adam’s apple bob and momentarily forgot what they’d been talking about. He remembered when Hakyeon put the bottle down again.

“It’s really hard to look away from you when you do that,” he said quietly, gesturing towards the center of the room.

“That’s the idea,” Hakyeon said, taking a more ginger sip of his water.

“What?”

“They have to look at us,” Hakyeon said, eyes on the younger ones as they rested. “If they glance, they can’t look away. We catch them. For the rest of the performance, they’ll stay on us.”

“Who?”

“The audience,” Hakyeon said. “Well, the ones who aren’t already fans. Starlights don’t need it anymore.”

“Need what?” Taekwoon said, genuinely lost.

Hakyeon blinked at him, opening his mouth to speak, before closing it again.

“Let’s get back to work, shall we?” he deflected, standing up and waving for them all to come back together.

What the hell was that?

 

Taekwoon was sitting in a corner; the gathering of members and staff had started reasonably small, only ten people, but as the night went on more showed up. The restaurant had pushed multiple tables together and set them up with virtually endless soju; the more they got, the louder the get-together became. Taekwoon had pulled himself to the side, and eventually the corner, horribly uncomfortable. He just kept thinking about how tired he was, and how he would much rather just go home, with his friends, and watch them play together from the sofa. He would even feed them if they asked.

Then Hakyeon was squeezing in next to him.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, leaning in so Taekwoon could hear him. “I’d rather be home too.” It was strange how just his presence could be so reassuring, calming even. It was strange how much Taekwoon needed him.

Taekwoon impulsively grabbed Hakyeon’s hand; he didn’t want him to go. Hakyeon squeezed once, a warm smile on his face.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “I wouldn’t leave you alone in a group like this, you know.”

“You’re friendlier than me,” Taekwoon pointed out.

“You’re perfectly friendly under the right circumstances,” Hakyeon countered. “This just isn’t one of them.”

He couldn’t be sure later what made him do it; maybe it had something to do with Hakyeon’s hand in his, or the light buzz of alcohol from the couple of drinks he’d had. Maybe it was the feeling of being in such a large crowd, he was essentially alone. Taekwoon leaned in closer, to murmur directly in Hakyeon’s ear. As always, Hakyeon leaned in so he could hear properly.

“I don’t want to be friendly anyway,” he said. “I’ve already got you.”

Hakyeon smiled.

“That’s true,” he murmured back. “You don’t really need anyone else, do you?”

Taekwoon shook his head, a smile of his own tucked into his cheeks. Hakyeon turned his head just a bit, barely a movement, and pressed a small kiss to his temple. 

_Please don’t go,_ Taekwoon thought with a pang in his chest. _Please don’t ever go._

“I’ll always be right by you,” Hakyeon said. “You’re my life-long friend, right?”

Taekwoon nodded, but something about the word ‘friend’ just didn’t sit well; it wasn’t that he disagreed—far from it—but even the ‘lifelong’ felt... inadequate. He wasn’t sure when, exactly, it happened, but at some point he’d stopped looking at Hakyeon like a friend, and started looking at him as...

Something else.

Taekwoon realized, quite suddenly, that Hakyeon was staring at him with a dusty pink blush across his face to the tips of his ears. He looked... confused, but also happy.

“What?” Taekwoon said, equally confused.

“Nothing,” Hakyeon said immediately. “I mean, you—you think—”

“Why would you know what I’m thinking?” Taekwoon asked, mildly alarmed by the idea of Hakyeon somehow reading his thoughts. He had so many weird ones that he was absolutely certain no other human being would think, and if they were discovered, he’d probably be outcast from society as something Too Weird, Even For Us.

“Stop,” Hakyeon said softly. He put a hand on Taekwoon’s cheek, and something about it felt different—or maybe he just wanted it to be different. It was so hard to tell these days. 

“Stop what?”

“Stop isolating yourself,” Hakyeon said, still gentle. “There’s nothing wrong with you, okay? Just because you don’t like—” he gestured to the room at large, “this kind of thing doesn’t make you weird. It makes you and introvert, something a great deal of people are.”

“You really want me to think I’m normal.”

“No, that’s not—you’re not, of course you’re not, but that isn’t _bad._ ” Hakyeon seemed particularly insistent on this point, and Taekwoon wasn’t about to fight him over it, especially since that would probably make him leave. Hakyeon heaved a sigh and dropped the hand on Taekwoon’s cheek; he also pulled away the hand that Taekwoon had been holding. Taekwoon barely bit back a complaint.

“Listen,” Hakyeon said. “I might wander away to socialize a bit, maybe try some new things now and then, but I’ll come back. I’m not leaving. I’m just not here for a bit. Please try and be patient. Or come with me, if you want, that’s fine too.”

Impulsively—childishly—Taekwoon stuck out his pinky finger.

“Promise,” he said gravely. Hakyeon blinked, then laughed. He linked their pinkies and even though he didn’t say a word, Taekwoon could have _sworn_ he heard Hakeyon’s voice.

_Promise._

Then Hakyeon left him, to be a social person, and Taekwoon decided to stay where he was. Hakyeon said he’d be back, after all.

 

 

“He just comes back to get a change of clothes, and then he leaves again,” Sanghyuk complained. “It’s like we’re not even roommates, I just live in his closet.”

“You miss him,” Hakyeon said gently. “Of course you do, you’ve shared a room for a long time.”

“We basically don’t share at all anymore,” Sanghyuk added. “I spend more time with Hongbin-hyung these days.”

“Have you asked Wonshik to come back more often?” Taekwoon asked. He personally hadn’t tried it, but Wonshik had a soft spot for their maknae. 

“Yeah,” Sanghyuk said, more sullen than ever. “He blows me off mostly.” Hakeyon frowned, but gave Sanghyuk a side-hug and patted his arm.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised. “Give me three days, then he should come back.”

“Why three days?” Sanghyuk asked. “Does he ignore your texts too?”

“The conditions have to be right,” Hakyeon replied as if this made any sense whatsoever. “Taekwoon, I may need your help.”

“Me?” Taekwoon said with surprise.

“You,” Hakyeon repeated. “In three days.” 

Sure enough, three days later, Hakyeon tracked him down and, wrapping one distressingly strong hand around his wrist, dragged him to his bedroom door. Once again, he knocked three times, but this time Taekwoon noticed that his knuckles weren’t hitting the same place; he was tapping in a triangle shape.

“Why are you doing that?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. “It’s your room.”

“Always knock on doors, Taekwoonie,” Hakyeon advised him. “You never know.”

“You never know _who is in your room?_ ”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Hakyeon pointedly diverted, “I need your help. Come in.” He put his hand on the knob, but paused.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Taekwoon answered without hesitation. Annoyed, frustrated, tempted—but certainly not afraid. He wasn’t _that_ strong. Hakyeon seemed relieved by this answer, because he opened the door and gestured for Taekwoon to enter. 

It wasn’t that he hadn’t ever been in Hakyeon’s room; he had, on multiple occasions, sometimes chatting or just comfortably hanging out—but the minute he walked through the door, Taekwoon realized with a start that he had never been in this room before. He’d never _seen_ this room before. He recognized the candles everywhere, and the room was quite heavily scented with something citrus, but it didn’t look like the inside of a dorm. It didn’t even look like the inside of an apartment complex. It looked like the inside of a house—an old house, with sunlight streaming through a window.

There was also a cat.

“What the fuck is going on,” Taekwoon asked as he picked up the quite-rotund calico and cradled her in his arms. She purred at him as he scratched her ears.

“See, this is why I couldn’t bring you in here,” Hakyeon grumped. “I knew you’d just sit there with her and we’d never get anything done.”

“ _What the fuck is going on, Hakyeon,_ ” Taekwoon repeated as the cat nuzzled under his chin.

“Wonshik has a studio,” Hakyeon said. “I have a work room.”

“To do what!?”

“I can’t make over six-hundred candles in my bedroom, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon pointed out in a voice that suggested he thought he was being perfectly reasonable. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

It was then that he noticed what could only be described as a shrine of some kind. On top of a white table, there were a series of photographs propped up with candles or small rocks in front of them. He saw Hakyeon’s family, all the kids, and himself. It was completely disturbing... and yet.

“Broo, I need him,” Hakyeon told the cat. “Go away.”

“Your cat’s name is Broo?” Taekwoon asked; it was a terrible name.

“No,” Hakyeon said. “Her name is Broomstick.”

Broo jumped out of Taekwoon’s arms, shot a very filthy look at Hakyeon and meowed loudly, then wandered over to a plush cushion in the patch of sunlight coming through the window.

“Excuse you,” Hakyeon told the cat, hands propped on his hips. “Where did you learn language like that? Rude.”

“Hakyeon,” Taekwoon said, feeling more and more like he’d just fallen asleep suddenly and didn’t remember doing so. “What the fuck is _going on._ We came in here _at night!_ ”

“Oh, you’re right,” Hakyeon said. “Broo, would you mind?” The cat lifted her head in their direction, and gave one very slow blink. The moment she did so, the sunlight was instantaneously gone, leaving them in the lowlight of candles. The moon was barely visible through the window.

Taekwoon was so fucking confused.

“Right, Wonshik,” Hakyeon said to himself, moving towards the shrine. “I think I went a bit hard on the creativity charm, probably. He was just so sad, I thought he really needed a big boost to get his confidence back up.”

“ _Charm?!_ ” Taekwoon squeaked.

“Charm, spell, whatever,” Hakyeon said dismissively. “Call it whatever you like, it doesn’t matter. The point is we need to get him to come back more without disrupting the creativity charm, if possible. That’s what you’re here for, obviously.”

Taekwoon just stared at him. Hakyeon picked up Wonshik’s photo and a handful of candles, coming back to where Taekwoon was just sitting on the floor, dumbfounded.

“I made the creativity charm, so if I try to call him back myself, it might break,” he explained. “So I’ll just set everything up, and you can call him back!”

“Wait,” Taekwoon said, feeling dizzy. “Wait, what? Magic? Is this supposed to be _magic_?!”

“What were you expecting?” Hakyeon asked him. “He ignores my texts.”

“ _So you’re going to use magic?!_ ”

“Do you have a better idea?” Hakyeon asked him. When he got no response, he added smugly, “That’s what I thought.”

“Why can you do magic!?”

Hakyeon stared at him.

“...Are you a witch?” Taekwoon asked, completely unsure if he even wanted an answer. 

“I mean, _technically,_ sure,” Hakyeon said. “It feels so silly to say it like that though.”

“ _Why are you a witch, Hakyeon,_ ” Taekwoon demanded, suddenly feeling like he had asked himself this very question internally on multiple occasions. Hakyeon sighed as if Taekwoon was being extremely difficult.

“It runs in the family,” he said waving a hand vaguely. When Taekwoon continued to stare at him, he continued. “We’ve all got something. My oldest sister is the best at it, truthfully—she’s also just a touch clairvoyant, which is completely unfair and cheating in my opinion, but I got empathy so the joke’s on her in the end I suppose.”

“Your entire family is _magic_!?”

“Do,” Hakyeon said. “We _do_ magic. _We_ aren’t magic. That would be a mess.”

Broo meowed from her cushion and Hakyeon shot her a look that when directed at the kids meant they were going to get beat later.

“Don’t beat your cat,” Taekwoon said immediately.

“I can’t beat her even if I wanted to,” Hakyeon said with a huff. “She _is_ magic, so I just have to put up with her _extreme rudeness._ ”

“Can you explain the... shrine?” Taekwoon asked. 

“It’s a shrine,” Hakyeon said flatly.

“That’s creepy, Hakyeon.”

“It’s not a _weird_ shrine,” Hakyeon protested. “It’s just a nice one. I don’t have your hair or blood or anything over there.”

“You have pictures of us, candles, and rocks,” Taekwoon said. “That’s weird.”

“Candles are protective,” Hakyeon said, suddenly quite firm. “They ward off most things, and I make sure they never go out. The stones help with purity and cleansing.” He paused for a moment, as if weighing the consequences before adding, “I can’t do anything to you all directly; that’s very unethical.”

“You did once,” Taekwoon said, following a hunch. “When I was sick.”

“Oh,” Hakyeon said. He blushed. “Okay, I guess I... kind of did that. I didn’t mean to, you just—do that.”

“Do what?”

Hakyeon made a frustrated noise.

“I don’t know! You amplify things!” he said, waving his hands in Taekwoon’s direction as if he was searching for an answer. “I asked my sisters, but they said they’d never heard of it being a person before, only objects. For—some reason, when you hold things I do, they’re stronger. I’m stronger, combined with you. Somehow.”

Taekwoon just stared.

“Look, it’s magic, okay?” Hakyeon said with a sigh. “I never said it made _sense._ It just _is._ ”

“So how are you—we going to get Wonshik to come home?” Taekwoon asked cautiously, “With magic?”

“Think of it as an urgent text message you are unable to ignore,” Hakyeon said with just a hint of bitterness. “We needed the moon phase to be right for the spell I know, unfortunately.”

“You haven’t explained anything,” Taekwoon pointed out. Hakyeon sighed again.

“I have his picture, but if you have a more recent one, that’d be best,” Hakyeon said. Taekwoon glanced at the picture; judging by hair, it was several months old. He was also 90% it was a selfie from Instagram. He pulled out his phone and managed to fine one from only a few weeks before; he showed it to Hakyeon.

“Oh, great!” he said brightly. “Put it right there next to the candles.”

“You have way too many candles,” Taekwoon felt obliged to point out.

“It’s fine, this place is fireproof anyway,” he said, brushing off the concern. “Now, focus: You need to light these this order, and then summon.”

“I need to _what_?!”

“Think really hard about how much you like him and how much you want him to come home,” Hakyeon translated. “I’ll hold your hands so we collectively boost the signal, so to speak.”

“I’m not sure I like him that much,” Taekwoon said cautiously.

“Stop pretending you don’t love them,” Hakyeon snorted. “You do, everyone knows it.”

Still not entirely sure what he was doing, Taekwoon lit the candles in the order Hakyeon directed, and then held his hands. They were pleasantly warm, as always, and smooth.

“Beeswax,” Hakyeon murmured. “Does wonders for the skin.”

Abruptly, Taekwoon withdrew his hands.

“Can you read my mind?” he asked, unsure of what feelings were suddenly bubbling up. The idea that they were, perhaps, negative feelings got stronger when he saw the extremely guilty look on Hakyeon’s face.

“Um,” he said. “Only sometimes?”

“For fuck’s sake—when!?”

“When we’re touching,” Hakyeon said, still looking guilty. “I don’t do it on purpose. Normally I just get a general read of people. They’re—colored, kind of. Like a human mood ring.”

“Oh, so you don’t read anybody else’s mind, just mine,” Taekwoon bristled. “Thanks.”

“I told you, it’s not on purpose!” he insisted. “I don’t have _telepathy_ , it’s just—if I touch you skin to skin, I hear you. I don’t get anything deep, just whatever is going through your head at that exact moment.”

For some reason, this—more than anything else he’d learned tonight—upset him the most. He’d been operating on the understanding that he and Hakyeon just jived really well; Hakyeon’s ability to read his feelings and know what he needed had been perception, a skill. He thought—he’d wanted to think—they were just _that_ well-matched.

Instead, Hakyeon had been literally reading his fucking mind, and any romanticized ideas about being suited to each other were completely false.

“Are you mad?” Hakyeon asked very softly. 

“You should know,” Taekwoon said back, icy.

“I don’t,” Hakyeon said. “I mean, I do, but not specifically. You’re very obviously mad.”

He wasn’t mad. He was hurt. Really, really hurt.

“If—if you don’t want to do this anymore,” Hakyeon said quietly, “I understand. I can try alone.”

“I don’t care about this,” Taekwoon said. 

_I care about you._

“For the record,” Hakyeon said, “By the time I figured out what was going on, we were already friends, and I just—I just wanted to check on you. Because you don’t tell me when something’s wrong. I can tell just by looking at you when something’s wrong, but not specifically, so—so I check. Sometimes.”

“Is that all it was?” Taekwoon said, relatively certain the hurt was bleeding into his voice. “Just checking?”

“I don’t understand,” Hakyeon said, uncertain.

Taekwoon didn’t know the words for what he was talking about; he put a palm on Hakyeon’s face, then ran it back through his hair before pulling away. He took care to blank his mind of any words at all.

“That,” he said. “Checking.”

“Oh, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said, suddenly sounding so _sad_ that Taekwoon had to struggle with the urge to do something—anything—to fix it. “No, no, that’s—that’s not it.”

He reached out, and held Taekwoon’s wrist. Only his wrist, with his right hand.

“This is checking,” he said. Then he put his hand on Taekwoon’s shoulder. “Or this, if you don’t have sleeves. Checking only takes a few seconds, so I—I let go pretty fast for checking.”

“Then what’s the face thing?” Taekwoon demanded. “The hair thing? The—everything else?!”

Hakyeon went silent, bringing his hands to his lap.

“Hakeyon.” Nothing. “Hey.” Silence. “ _Hakyeon-ah, look at me._ ” Taekwoon demanded. Hakyeon’s head jerked up, and something in his expression was... fearful?

“I’m sorry,” Hakyeon said. “I’m—I’m really sorry. I should have stopped once I figured out what was happening, but I—you—I like you so much, but I didn’t know how to do that _and_ not hear you, so I just pretended like it didn’t matter. I shouldn’t have. That was very disrespectful and I’m sorry.”

“You like me?” Taekwoon repeated.

“Yes,” Hakyeon said. “A lot. Is that a surprise?”

“Yes,” Taekwoon said.

“Oh,” Hakyeon replied before falling silent again. 

This was getting ridiculous.

“If you can read my mind, then you should already know,” Taekwoon felt obliged to point out. 

“Know what?”

“How _I_ feel.”

“I don’t,” Hakyeon said. “I told you, nothing deep, just surface stuff.”

“I think about you a lot,” Taekwoon informed him.

“Really?” Hakyeon said.

“Yes.”

“I kind of assumed it was just... because I’m literally right there, in front of you,” Hakyeon admitted.

“No,” Taekwoon corrected him. “It’s a lot.” 

“Are they good things?”

Broo meowed. It felt oddly judgmental.

Taekwoon once again put his hand on Hakyeon’s cheek, but this time he leaned in, lifting Hakyeon’s face just enough to be the perfect height when their lips met. It was so small, so cautious, and his brain started shrieking things like ‘this is perfect’ and ‘his lips are so soft’ and ‘I should stop doing this because he—you can definitely hear me’ and ‘I love you and it hurts because you don’t _get it._ ’

He pulled back from the kiss as the last one jammed its way through his mind, because it was a little more than he’d really meant to say. Think. Meant to _think._

Hakyeon was bright, bright red.

“I can pretend I didn’t hear that, if you want,” he offered quietly. For half a second, Taekwoon considered it, but then he shook his head.

“If you’d just told me before, I wouldn’t—it wouldn’t have been so bad,” he said, just as quiet. “I don’t mind if you hear me, I just...”

“Would have liked to know that,” Hakyeon finished for him. “Yeah, that—that would have been the smart way to handle it, I guess.”

 _I wonder,_ Hakyeon’s voice rang crystal-clear through his head, _if he wants me to even answer that._

Taekwoon still had his hand on Hakyeon’s cheek.

_Probably not now that he knows I’m fucking creepy, eavesdropping on his brain._

Taekwoon blinked.

_Why is he staring? Is he that mad? Does he hate—no, no, please don’t—I just--_

“Shut up,” Taekwoon said. “I can hear you.”

Hakyeon pulled his face off of Taekwoon’s palm with a jerk.

“ _What!?_ ”

“I can hear you when you do that,” Taekwoon said. “Really loud, actually.”

“Oh my god,” Hakyeon said, covering his face with both hands. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I don’t know how—seriously, how?”

“I don’t hate you,” Taekwoon said with a grumble. “But I kind of... do want an answer.”

Hakyeon looked at him as if he was the most baffling creature known to mankind—but also one he was particularly fond of.

“Of course I love you,” he said. “I’ve been writing relaxation runes in your coffee foam for literally years because you were so anxious all the time and I just wanted you to have a good day.”

“Please tell me you didn’t put a love spell on my coffee,” Taekwoon said.

“ _No,_ ” Hakyeon said firmly. “I _never_ would. There’s no consent in that, anyone with a slight moral compass knows better than to do it.”

“But you could.”

“Doubtful,” Hakyeon said. He raised one finger in the air, like a teacher giving a speech. “I could make myself attractive, but I have to know what you’re attracted to in the first place, and even then it’s not _that_ much of a change, just like... if I know you like my butt, I could make you feel the need to look at my butt slightly more often. It’s basically not even worth it.”

“So you love me and I love you and that has nothing to do with candles?” Taekwoon summarized.

“That was very well put,” Hakyeon said, visibly impressed. “And correct.”

“Oh,” Taekwoon said. “Okay.”

For a moment there was silence; then Taekwoon reached out and took Hakyeon’s hands again. He looked up.

“Are you going to listen?”

“Do you want me to?”

“No.”

 _Yes,_ he thought very hard. _It makes things easier._

“You’re just reaching for the stars on the path towards ultimate laziness, Jung Taekwoon, aren’t you?” Hakyeon said dryly.

“Yes,” Taekwoon said.

 _Fine,_ Hakyeon hummed inside his head. _But I still want you to whisper to me sometimes. I like it._

Taekwoon rolled his eyes, but smiled so Hakyeon would know _without_ reading his fucking mind that he agreed. He looked down Wonshik’s picture on his phone, and the stupid candles.

“Wonshik,” he said, staring at the picture. “Come home. We’re not even sure you’re alive.”

“Also answer Hyukkie’s texts,” Hakyeon told the picture judgmentally. “He adores you, it’s very mean to just ignore him like after all the snoring you’ve put him through.”

They fell into silence.

“That’s it,” Hakyeon said. 

“What?” Taekwoon blinked. “Just that?”

“Just that,” Hakyeon said. “What were you expecting, fireworks?”

“I was expecting _magic_ ,” Taekwoon replied in what he felt was a completely justified manner.

“Magic is the placebo effect, but reversed. It doesn’t work because you believe it will, you believe it will so it works. If you want him home badly enough, he’ll come home,” Hakyeon explained.

“So what do you do in here?!”

“I told you,” Hakyeon said. “I make candles.” When he failed to add anything at all to that statement, Taekwoon realized that weirdly, Hakyeon being a witch didn’t actually change... anything at all.

“You have to let me in here now,” he said.

“Why—”

“You have a cat.”

“God damn it,” Hakyeon said because he knew Taekwoon was right. “You know what, just knock, she’ll let you in herself.”

Taekwoon beamed.

 

“I always forget how nice my mattress is,” Wonshik commented from where he had landed, face down, after appearing with no notice.

“Better than a fold-out cot, that’s for sure,” Sanghyuk said, cross-legged on his own bed.

“Sorry.”

“...for what?”

“Not answering your texts,” Wonshik said, lifting his head. “I honestly didn’t look at my phone once today, I was kind of in a zone. Then I saw them all right as I was leaving, and it seemed stupid to answer when I was going to be here anyway.”

“It’s not that big a deal, hyung, really,” Sanghyuk said.

“It is,” Wonshik insisted. “I want to be around for you, okay? I’ll check more. I’ll put kakaotalk on my computer too so I can see alerts even if my phone is in my bag or something.”

Sanghyuk grinned.

“High-five me,” Hakyeon hissed to Taekwoon from outside.

“Why?” Taekwoon hissed back.

“Just do it!”

He held out a palm that Hakyeon enthusiastically high-fived.

_We’re fucking magic, I told you!_

Taekwoon rolled his eyes, then pulled Hakyeon towards him by their hands. When he kissed him, it was a lot more confident and a lot less careful. As Hakyeon threw his arms around Taekwoon’s neck and melted into him, he found himself kind of on some level agreeing:

They were fucking magic.


End file.
